Phobia
by Adamina
Summary: Tsukino Usagi, so young, has fallen into the world where her greatest fears are almost real.


She ran.

How could she not? The world was against her, turning their backs on her, betraying her as if she were some inhuman life form that people feared and resented. They would howl at her in the most terrifying voices, throw objects at her cruelly and sneer, demanding that she return to wherever she came from. But she didn't know, she sobbed harshly. She didn't know anything.

Her hair, long and golden, was hidden in red acrylic paint, merging with blue and yellow and other various colors that she couldn't bare to think of. Her clothes were ripped and torn, splattered with food not a soul could distinguish, and her knees, arms, and hands were scraped badly from falling continuously on the ground as she ran away. Away from them.

Tears. She hated them more than she hated those who spit at her. How many times had she been told to suck them up and take the blow? Told that that tears were from the devil, weak and pitiful. Pathetic, she thought, just as she was. The were for wimps, worms, and abandoned children. None of which anyone wanted to be near, no matter what anybody said.

But they kept coming. Like the rainfall that fell late last night, they drowned out her breath and covered her face like suffocating quilts. Layer by layer, they took her lungs with desperate cries, and draped over her body with racking humiliation. She'd clung to the last edge of the cliff she was teetering over, but her nails that dug into the stone and dirt were breaking, and her fingers were slipping, so slowly, and her hands couldn't -wouldn't- hold on any longer. She would fall soon. No doubt, she would die.

Everybody forgot her.

Her body shifted to spin around the corner. Her elbow scraped the brick wall beside her. But she didn't feel the pain. Her body was numb of everything except the ache enaminating from her soul, spreading like a plague to every inch of her body. It hurt, God it hurt! A sting that had no cure to calm it. Her hands clutched each other, rubbing up to her elbows until she was hugging herself for the only comfort she'd ever known, and couldn't need enough. There were no hugs at night, not for her. There were no kisses of love, no words of joy, no soothing voices to vanish all her worries and doubts. Instead there was a cold steel gate in front of her, refusing to let her get passed anything but tolerance. And even that was hard to accomplish.

The already vile smelling substance on her shirt somehow strengthened, it's scent moving over her and sealing her thoughts. Her parents, her only family, waved her away with but a word. Hard eyes, unfeeling voices, careless gestures -they were all for her. Was she a mistake? Oh no. Tsukino Usagi was too high in breed to be a mistake for Tsukino Kenji and Ikuko. She was a reward, instead, and was placed in front of everyone just like trophy to be admired for fine work and hard duty. Her life was rich with priviledges and expectations.

Oh, but Christ, what was a life where a five-year-old had to sit at the dinner table and recite the entire alphabet in French? To her, mistake and reward came in the same package.

Her toe found a crack in the sidewalk, caught, and tripped. She didn't bother to even fling her hands out and brace. Her jaw hit the cement hard. Pain exploded behind her eyes and for a moment she feared her jaw to be broken.

The fear grew even greater when she realized she wouldn't have cared.

She lay there a minute, not listening or looking, and wondered if it was worth it to stand again. Death looked to be such a rewarding experience from where she was, and she almost reached out as if to grab it. Her cheek was scraped hard, blood trinkling down to stain the cement. Her uniform had the same crimson color from where she'd cut herself after being shoved into the untensils in the Biology Lab. The teacher was gone. The room was full. Faces of hatred flooded her sight.

All she could think of was how her mother would react when she witnessed the horrible state that her expensive outfit was in.

Punishment would no doubt come in full swing.

She pressed her forehead to the ground. A leg stepped over her, another just barely missed stepping on her hand. Neither missed a beat or hesitated to go on. She knew their thoughts well.

A pesky disturbance lying on the ground. It was time to clean up the city.

The dull ache, ever familiar, started spreading again. The numbingness started fading, and faded fast, and what seemed like snake teeth bit hard into her as she attempted to stand. Her lips trembled open on a shaky breath, salty tears falling on the dry lips and burning them. And she whispered so absently, "H-help me?"

But no one heard. Neither did she.

Her hand, bloodied, pressed against the wall as she began to run once more. What had seemed like hours before was only twenty minutes when the last tomato was thrown at her. Classmates, people she'd known since junior years, despised her name and hissed whenever mentioned. Kicking at her as one might a wounded puppy, they ran her from the building with paint cans and food following her the entire way. For what reason? She couldn't say. She wasn't even sure that she wanted to know if it caused her that much more distress.

They demanded something from her. Her eyes squinted from the headache that nudged at her eyebrows, blinked at the red substance dripping off her eyebrows. What did they demand? What couldn't she give? She had it all, they said, and yet she couldn't give an inch. She owned the world, yet refused it's earth. They accused her so bitingly, lashed out when she couldn't speak a word. She had no love, and didn't love. Her food was stale and her body just as fresh. She sucked in life and didn't live. Her silence spoke so many voices, and they threw it back at her ten times more.

She was their phobia.

It was fate that had led her there, she knew. Even as it did, fate rejected her with ice and bared it's teeth if ever she came near. Her sobs were stuck in her throat, crying to get out, and she just shook her head rapidly as she approached the cemetary. Her heart felt ready to burst from the pressure she'd held on it, not knowing why she held the pressure there. Empty she was, yet filled with much dispair.

She had no place to go and death was calling. Even when life was taken from her Usagi was sure that she would still be lost. Even the God she foresworn herself to, the God that promised her release, had left her alone in her time of defeat and backed away from her as if her curse were contagious.

"Why?" she slumped to her knees when they buckled to the ground, unable to hold her withering self up any longer. "Why do you hate me?" Whether the question was to God, to civilization, or to herself, it was still sounded out and echoed back with no answer. No answer but one.

One hates because one can't love.

Nobody could love her.

It could have been the gust of wind that made her face tilt up, drying the tears that streaked her face and marked their place, setting her heart at a speeding pace when she came face to face with stone gray tomb that stood where she'd fallen.

Shaky hands shook further as they reached up to outline the solid indented words, and a sensation so strong and unbareable drowned in her, squeezed at her contracting heart, and bled internal wounds as visions -dream? Memories?- Wept with it. The first words smacked her hard.

**Here lies Chiba Mamoru**

Flowers surrounded the grave as if the man had been buried that very day. And a picture freshly placed lay beside the stone. A man was smiling at her, almost arrogantly yet charming at the same time. His eyes were so blue, she thought sorrowfully, and his hair so silky.

Her frown deepened. She'd seen him before. Heard that name before. Where? How?

Did it matter? a voice snapped so bitterly that she had to bite her lip in order to trade pain for pain, and pulled back the tears. He's dead now!

She'd missed the funeral. She hadn't even realized there was one.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Flash<em>**

_"A twenty-eight? Are you slow, or just plain stupid?" Blues eyes piercing, grin cocky, he held up the crumpled test paper and arched a brow expectantly._

_She fumed._

* * *

><p>Astonishment twined with dread. The questions on the tip of her tongue were unknowingly, instantly already answered and she soon found herself with no more questions to ask. Feeling compelled to give into the urge and rest her head on the top of the tomb, she closed her eyes and did so.<p>

* * *

><p>Misery crawled on two legs over her, in her. Then swarmed her to feast at her already breaking heart.<p>

* * *

><p><strong><em>Flash<em>**

_"Tuxedo Kamen can not be trusted, Sailormoon." Ami told her wisely, tapping into her computer. The symbol of Mercury was placed on the back of it, and tiny sounds of computer transfer transmitted from the little device. "We can't be sure if he's on our side."_

_But she knew he was. He HAD to be. No one could know better than her._

_Her heart told her so._

* * *

><p>A cry of anguish sounded from her before she could catch it. Stupid, she reprimanded herself. Too weak to deny the visions, too desperate to make the warmth they brought vanish away, and all too certain that they would -just like everything else- Usagi buried her face in the roses and sobbed for the threaded pain each warm memory brought.<p>

* * *

><p><strong><em>Flash<em>**

_"No matter what, you let the girl go!"_

_He stood over her, so brave and magnificent, facing Zoicite and demanding Usagi's safety._

_All she was was confused. Rising on one elbow, she wondered what Mamoru was doing facing the menacing general that vanished in flower petals._

* * *

><p>The warmer the memory, the more emptier she became. She grinded her teeth to keep from whimpering. The physical pain was once again drowned out by every emotion that welled up inside her. There was no room for pain and whining, she lashed at herself. She was a Soldier after all. Her position demanded leadership and bravery. Her role in the world ordered she rise above petty feelings. She wasn't like everyone else anyway.<p>

But she had none of the strength society screamed at her to have. Her vision began to blacken, her muscles began to melt into cold, cold water that froze into ice, and she sank into the ground at the bottom of Mamoru's grave.

"You are not fit to be Sailormoon." The wind, the voice of all that surrounded her, seemed to cackle in her ear.

She wasn't fit to be Sailormoon.

She wasn't fit to be.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Flash<em>**

_She held his hand in hers as he lay on her lap, bleeding, dying, and looking up her with saddening eyes. His hand was clasped tight in her fisted one, and she refused to let go._

_His voice was hoarse when he managed his last words for her. For his Princess._

_"I'll find a way back to you."_

* * *

><p>She'd lost him then, and had lost him now without even knowing it. She couldn't keep up, couldn't get by. Falling, falling, falling blindly into the Pit of Forever, and never knowing what came when forever ended.<p>

Where did her friends go? Why did he leave her? Why did THEY leave her when she needed them most? They knew, they KNEW she needed them, and they went away without a trace. She was alone now: A super hero without a savior. A rope left twisting in the wind.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Flash<em>**

_"You are my family, Usako." His hand rested softly on her back as she lay her head on his knee. Safe, protected, content, she rubbed it there to comfort both him and herself._

_"I'll always be your family."_

* * *

><p>She couldn't feel her hands any longer. The wind had picked up, ruthlessly cold, and her fingers had reddened in frostbite. She could have sworn she felt her body shiver, but wasn't sure as her conscience floated from reality to darkness. It curled up inside of her, trying to block out the shrieking noises it screamed in her ear. She couldn't get away from it, couldn't move. A part of her didn't want to move, and demanded that she stay where she was.<p>

No one would come looking for her empty body anyway.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Flash<em>**

_"Aishiteru, Usako."_

* * *

><p>When did the world start to scowl at her? she wondered. It was a familiar question that she'd always thought. And answered, At the beginning.<p>

But she was happy at the beginning, she remembered as she began slipping away. Before she'd always thought that death would be a peaceful transition, a simple slide into the after world. But instead it was noisy, painful and freezing. The shadows of death caught her throat and squeezed the rest of her breath right out of her. She gasped, hanging on for one last instant and let the rest of the memories flood her.

Yes, she thought again, she'd been happy in the beginning. And then they left her for something better. They had always hated her in secret, she was sure. Why else would they leave? He had loved another, no doubt. Why else would he rather die than be with her? The world would rather be black without her than light with her, why else would they forget her morally? Life would rather disgard her than let her find reason to live. Why else was she dying?

She became her own phobia.

Why else was she letting death take her?

Single and abandoned, the last tear drop smoothed down the injured cheek, burning and churning the ivory skin to red. It wasn't warm, nor was it cold. It just was. And when it hit the ground, and her last breath chocked out, they were no more.

* * *

><p>And then steel bands were wrapped around her, shaking her, jolting her into what she thought was the next life. For a terrifying moment she knew that those jolts could only be the first sign of The Beyond, and started to fight against the horrible shadow that had come to drag her the rest of the way. It was a bumpy ride, she observed, and it came with firm grips on each arm and a soft surface beneath her.<p>

Joining it, conflicting shouts.

She recognized one as her own, and realized her body was trembling horribly, twisting and writhing wildly beneath the icy grips. Her hands pushed up and felt a barrier. Suddenly, Usagi felt claustrophobic, and opened her lips to scream when her eyes wouldn't be willed to follow. Death had blinded her, and when no more sound came from her, it had taken her voice as well.

Death would kill her again.

But she was still shaking, and yet she wasn't. Ears perking, head shaking, she tried to depict the babble of words drumming in her head.

"Wake up! Come on, baby, it was just a bad dream. Please, just wake up!"

There was desperation in the deep voice, and soothing to twine it. And it was so warm, she thought longingly, and so familiar. It comforted her frightened soul and willed her without order and steel to do as it requested.

She woke up.

Deep blue eyes like the sea peered down at her, concern filling them to the fullest. She recognized those eyes. Relief spread through her like a wave even though she could do no more than watch those blue eyes right back. Her arms, feeling too heavy to lift, stayed pinned to her sides as the owner's body balanced itself over her, legs tangling with her own.

She was alive.

"Baby?" The word came from the mouth. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" His hand lifted to her forehead, checking for fever.

Afraid she'd might ruin this moment, more afraid that this moment was just an illusion, she said nothing and didn't move a muscle.

"You're sweating, Usako. You feel warm. Do you want some water? Hold on," one of the hands that had one of her arms pinned released it, curling under her back and pulling her against a soft wall, a body, and dragging her with it as they shifted to the side.

A light switched on. Darkness fled.

And there was her Mamoru.

It took her a couple seconds to open her mouth, but when she did the throaty sound trembled passed her lips, "M-Mamo-chan?"

"That's it. Sit up. You had yourself one hell of a nightmare, didn't you? Scared ten years off of me the way you were screaming and choking like that. I swear, if you ever do that to me again...God! You're like ice." A glass was in his hand in an instant. Tipping her head back, he held the cup to her mouth. "Take a drink. Are you okay?" he asked again. Her eyes were glassy, and shocked. Fear was like a blade in his side. "Do you need a hospital?"

"No." She said, surprised when her voice came out even. Drinking down the rest of the water, grateful for it, she placed it on the nightstand beside the picture taken a week before of her and her friends. It was a dream. It was...just a dream? A nightmare he said. Oh God, she could have cried. It was much, much too tempting to cry. "I'm okay. I'm okay." She gave into temptation.

He was alive. They were alive.

"It's okay," he whispered to her. Endearments passed from his lips through her ears as he kissed her cries away. "Maybe a sleepover wasn't such a good idea if my room gives you the scares." He tried, lightly teasing.

But she couldn't speak, the words were too great. Usagi let him pull her closer, stroking her hair calmly and whispering to her nonsense until he knew she would fall asleep again, safely tucked in his arms. His lips brushed her ear, his breath fluttering against it.

"It was just a dream."

He wouldn't ask about it now, she knew, because he knew she'd tell him in the morning. And she would, and would bask in the knowledge that none of it was truth. For there she was, lying in his arms, staring at the photograph of her and her family, of love, safely protected. Mamoru, her one, her only, was not dead, and would not let harm touch her in any form or way.

It was just a dream.

And her dream was just her phobia.


End file.
